


Affection Defection

by demowrites



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Fallen Hero, Gen, Idris is such a bitch, M/M, chargestep - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21553846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demowrites/pseuds/demowrites
Summary: The blame game.
Relationships: Ortega/Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Kudos: 11





	Affection Defection

His exhale gave a small barrier, smoke consuming the space between them, so he didn’t have to fill it with pointless excuses and a dirty look.

The moment was swallowed and excused, unveiling Ortega’s face once again.

“Why does it have to be like this?” Ortega’s hands hovered helplessly and uncommitted, tainted by the possibility of rejection. Unsure of what action needed to happen, while still willing to take it.

Typical Ricardo.

“Why does it have to be.. like... _this_ ,” Idris breathed, the last word extending and leaving a trail of smoke and unease. His lips pursed, tapping the ashes of his cigarette as a slow chuckle rumbled out of his chest, rusted and forgotten. 

“I spent two years avoiding you, and you’re wondering why I don’t want to run into your arms… begging you to rescue me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying--”

“You’re asking me why things aren’t the way that they used to be.” His head rolled to the side, his features imagining the sardonic smile that failed to come. In its wake, an eyebrow arched to punctuate the statement, his eyes rolling up to the sky once more. 

“I know… that things happened, but I still care about you. I still want to be there for you.” 

The words were quiet, firm-- full of all the assuredness that Idris imagined a hero should have. 

“You have no idea what happened. And I’m not saying shit because your poor, bleeding hero heart can’t handle it.” Another drag as all the thoughts and words that became stagnant and worn in the artificial light and drugged haze of the past began to stir once again. 

“I put the mask on for a reason, and the second I started buddying up to the _fucking_ Marshall, it was over for me.”

Ricardo blanked, the tension in his brow snapped from shock before he stepped forward again.

“You mean--”

“I mean I put myself in danger by hanging out with people who constantly have fucking camera in their face everytime they so much as step outside.” He flicked the cigarette butt, still refusing to look at his once lover-- were they lovers?-- and pushed off the bench.

“The difference between you and I, Charge, is that you fight for show--a choice that you’re getting paid to do. And _I_ ….” 

Their eyes met again, tainted by the hollow smirk that Idris used to smother the memories-- sneaking kisses and avoiding press, the small moments where he felt wanted, _needed_...the moments where he felt so wholly seen by the warmth of Ricardo’s gaze that it made him feel real at one point in time. 

The memory of his feelings for Ricardo were a ghost he could never escape from. The hauntings of his own delusion of belonging reminding him that the person he trusted so much put him back in that hole in the ground that he crawled out from again, and again, and--

“I’m just trying to survive.” Idris stepped off the curb, looking towards the dark street in front of him, the remnants of sunlight impeded by the concrete and glass that was slowly swallowing Los Diablos whole once again. 

Ricardo’s last pleas were wasted, drifting in the empty space as Idris turned and left. There was more to say-- _god_ there was always more to say--but none of that mattered now.

Ricardo didn’t matter.

The Rangers didn’t matter. 

There was only Exodus.

Only Exodus would purge the tainted shroud cowering in the remnants of Los Diablos. Only Exodus was salvation. 

_There shall be no other gods before **me**._


End file.
